


despite everything i'm still human (but i think i'm dying here)

by gothst



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Angst, Aromantic Link, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Life Story (kind of), Mute Link, One Shot, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Post-Ocarina of Time, Selectively Mute Link, Time Skips, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothst/pseuds/gothst
Summary: "You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?"Yes. Yes, you have.-a character study of Link post-Ocarina of Time





	despite everything i'm still human (but i think i'm dying here)

**Author's Note:**

> i hereby apologise to the whole zelda universe canon i think i just messed up the whole timeline lmao i just wanted to play around
> 
> no honestly i'm pretty sure this doesn't make much sense and i don't really have an excuse for it
> 
> still, i've kinda poured my heart and soul into this story whoops
> 
> (also warning, there's some heavy themes ahead)  
> (and some possible errors, english isn't my first language n all that jazz)

You can’t remember whose face you saw first.  
Or, rather, you don’t know whose face you saw first.  
You simply caught sight of the blurry outlines of people, surrounding you and looking down at you with what you assumed to be sorrowful gazes.

You could hear the muffled noises of a commotion – footsteps on solid earth, hectic whispers and distinct, excited cries of _“He’s awake!”_ resonating in your head. 

You wanted to speak, to ask questions, since you frankly had no idea what was going on. But as so often, there was no relying on your voice.

You felt strange. Maybe because you weren’t in pain, as you would have expected to be. You mainly felt nothing. Nothing topped with some sobriety. 

The desire to sit up or simply lift your head, to make sure that you still had control over your limbs, overcame you. But before you could do anything, you fell back into a slumber, and you pushed aside the images of a scornfully laughing demon transforming into more and more revolting images of itself, which were haunting you behind your eyelids.  
Fever dreams, that’s what they were. Unsurprising, judging by the things you’ve had to witness in your life. You simply pushed them aside. 

-

Saria has always been a good soul, which proved itself even more during the time after your awaking. 

She didn’t leave out any details when she told you about how they found you one morning, unconscious in the Lost Woods, and how they brought you back to Kokiri Forest, trying - in vain - to nurse you back to health.  
The Deku Tree was dead, a young sprout in its place, so young, he didn’t nearly possess the same wisdom as his forefather and therefore wasn’t much help in your healing process.  
No one knew what had happened. Or if you’d ever wake up again, for that matter. The only signs of life you gave from you, aside from steady breathing, were screams in the darkest hours of the nights, so loud and filled with pain, one would have only expected to hear them in the deepest graves of Kakariko’s graveyard. 

_But_ , explained Saria, they were _Kokiri_ , and _Kokiri never lost hope_. 

Kokiri knew, however, when to search help from outside.

The royal family changed from the picture of a far, unreachable group of powerful people to close confidants, ever since they inaugurated the forest people into your fate - the fate of the Hero of Time.

With joined forces, they succeeded in getting you back to your feet and you could, unfortunately, remember all the events from before your coma as if they had happened yesterday. Ganondorf’s rise to power, 7 years in the Sacred Realm, the devastation you were confronted with, after skipping your insignificant childhood days, and which you had to face headfirst.  
The victory over Ganon was still fresh in your memory, just like Navi’s parting and Zelda’s words as she sent you back in time to let you be a child in peace. 

Back in Kokiri Forest, once again without a fairy, your instincts led you straight into the Lost Woods, in search for your faithful companion. What happened next is still a mystery to you. All you know is that you woke up, all of a sudden, back in your bed, in your treehouse, in your village. Navi nowhere to be seen. 

In-between, it seems to you, was spent being part of a huge spectacle (a carnival, maybe?) which was ruined, again and again, by _what_ or _how_ you weren’t sure. It didn’t make sense. The thoughts were garbled, and when you asked Saria about a carnival happening after your return, she expressed nothing but confusion.

„You must have dreamt a lot and actively when you were unconscious, Link. Such things go hand in hand!”

And as much as those memories didn’t feel like fever dreams to you, so different to the nightmares - in which you succumbed to Ganondorf for the umpteenth time, an eternal shadow casting over the land - you still knew you could rely on Saria and pushed aside your thoughts, once again.

-

Life was different, now that everyone knew you were the Hero of Time, someone that had carried Hyrule’s fate on his shoulders. 

Even Mido acted quite respectful towards you now, at least as much as one could expect from him. He didn’t quite dare to look you in the eyes anymore and, in all honesty, you almost missed his endless, one-sided insults about your lack of strength, your lack of a fairy, your lack of a voice. 

Shouldn’t your actions have proven that you weren’t the weakling everyone thought you were? You could easily deal with Mido’s unimaginative insults! Being treated with kid gloves was the last thing you wanted and the last thing that was on Zelda’s mind when she sent you back to experience a _normal_ childhood. (Which was a naïve, cynical thought in itself, no matter what.)

Of course, none of the Kokiri could remember any events – they haven’t happened, after all – but thanks to the stories the royal family kept on telling every time they visited, the air turned thick and serious whenever you exited the house. 

It wasn’t, naturally, any longer a secret that you weren’t actually part of the Kokiri.  
As you gradually grew older, bigger, having to double up at night to fit your feet under the thin blanket of your bed, you began to realize that life here didn’t quite feel right anymore - not like a gratification, but more like an obligation, a responsibility. 

Having to watch everyone stay young and carefree, acting as if you weren’t suddenly a head taller than them, hurt in its very own way.  
You knew that, genetically, you’ve never been a part of the Kokiri. But you were still a _part of them_ in its own sense and the forest was, more or less, your home.

Constantly and brutally being reminded through the flow of time that you didn’t belong made you live more secluded. It hurt, looking down at Saria, when you sat on the wayride in the sunset, talking about everything and nothing.  
Saria was still - had always been - the only one who you let be part of your life, who understood your inner turmoil, without you having to explain yourself. 

It was her, too, who finally spoke the Unspeakable, the Unspeakable which had been nagging at the back of your mind for way too long. 

_“I think it might be time we release you out into the world.”_

-

Your goodbye was painful and bittersweet.  
Saria bestowed her fairy ocarina upon you, _“a sign of everlasting friendship”_ , as if you leaving meant you’d never see each other again.  
Her eyes were glistening with tears, and you smiled at her sadly, hoping you’d be able to convey to her how grateful you were, for everything she’s done. 

The last time this had happened, saying your disastrous goodbyes in the sunset on the exact same wooden bridge, was still clear in your memory. Now you knew what you had to do instead of turning around and running away like a coward, hoping the girl who’d seen you cry a thousand times wouldn’t see the tears streaming down your face – so you took her in your arms, holding on tightly. 

You realized that by now, you could comfortably fit your chin on her head. You wanted to apologize for the teardrops falling into her hair, but as so often, you couldn’t quite find your voice. 

-

Getting hold of a place in Hyrule Town wasn’t difficult, being the Hero of Time and all.  
You were in constant, close contact with the royal family ever since you had returned, had woken up, and not just because they were the sole reason you recovered back to full health so quickly. 

You kept the habit of visiting Zelda as well, over those past few years. 

She was different than Saria, as an interlocutor.  
Talking to her was unpolished and rough, significantly harder than talking to your childhood friend. But you still enjoyed being in her presence – you could exchange over past events, since Zelda had kept her memories, just like you. 

Especially since you’ve awoken from your coma and often had to spend nights in the castle, having to overcome various feed-up-treatments, you were glad to have a familiar face around in the middle of all the chaos and hushed voices. 

Gradually, however, Zelda has become more preoccupied. But it was understandable - having to prepare for taking over the throne and ruling a whole kingdom could be quite stressful, you figured.

When you two - or really just Zelda - could find time for a meeting now, it was often forced and curt, between the orchards in the castle yard, and you usually left the castle agitated, as if it would’ve been wiser not to feel obligated to stay in touch with a person just because they shared the same fate you did. 

The wounds of the past would have to heal one day, you knew. They shouldn’t continuously have been teared open anew, through afternoon chats about bloody fights and falling towers, about unrecognizable market places, on which death and misery prevailed instead of life and joy. 

Your house was located in a cul-de-sac, which you vaguely remembered as the place in which, in a different timeline, you listened to the last words and pleads of a wounded warrior.

You felt queasy and uncomfortable as you were rummaging through your leather bag for your key - which the king made you pick up at the local post office, together with a “Good Luck!” and “You are always welcome if you need anything”-letter. 

The one frail room of your apartment was your ticket into a new stage of life. A stage of life, which, you tried to convince yourself, you were more than ready for. 

In a different lifetime you were stuck in the Sacred Realm now, stuck in a dreamless sleep for two more years.

With a sigh you opened the creaky wooden door. 

-

The nightmares have gotten worse, now that you were completely on your own and company was lacking. In a town where you knew everyone vaguely, by face, but no one was able to recognize you as the person you really were, or had once been.

You were, on top of all, lonely. Lonely and jobless.

The king had assured you that he would be able to get you a job, but you were quick to turn down the offer and, frankly, did so without a second thought. You were too proud and, additionally, there was a certain demand in you to prove to yourself that you were capable of doing (everyday) things on your own.

The job search was tough, but still no insurmountable difficulty, as a vaguely known acquaintance of the royal family - the mysterious Forest Boy, always clad in green, who could be seen passing through town every now and then, paying visits to the castle. 

On top of that, you were different to the other habitants – and not only due to the basic Kokiri clothing style which had grown on you so dearly.  
People realized that you weren’t from here.

A job hunting tour through Hyrule, though, left you dissatisfied, and after passing the mask shop, which you never paid much attention to in earlier years, the motivation to search for a spontaneous taster day left you completely.  
The laughing, open mouth over the entrance was mockingly staring down at you. You could practically hear the familiar, high-pitched laugh of the mask sales man, resonating deep within your bones and leaving a shiver running down your spine. 

As you were rubbing your arms, trying to recover from the sudden chill overcoming you, you shook your head, brushing away any unwanted thoughts, and made the decision to swerve around the shop in the future.

_You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?_

-

Hyrule, as it turned out, should be your residence for a relevant period of your life, yet working here was one of your last intentions. 

A disastrous day in the Bombchu Bowling Alley - which ended in a boisterous band of children complaining to the boss over the weird, snoring boy behind the counter - only continued to prove that. 

No bad blood was spilled, though, and your colleague just whispered a _„Good naps are actually part of the job description here, I don’t know why you didn’t get hired”_ to you as you left the shop sheepishly. 

Neither the blacksmith nor the potions shop could satisfy you. Even if you were a natural in both forging swords and brewing potions and your (almost) bosses only reluctantly let you walk back out the door. 

You also knew that you couldn’t search for the perfect occuption forever, especially since choices in Castle Town were getting more limited and you sure as hell weren’t going to set foot into the Masks Shop. 

So your heart lead you, in good spirits, to Kakariko. 

Being a labourer didn’t enthrall you much, and before you could pass the gate to Kakariko’s graveyard, you were fortunately able to stop yourself in time to turn back around, thanks to vivid images of yourself, hunched over and limping from grave to grave, passing before your eyes. 

You were so close to giving up and paying a visit to the royal family. Asking them for help. Giving in. Giving up. 

But it was the last thing you wanted to do – showing weakness.

You had to laugh at yourself, over your childish stubbornness. The royal family knew you were anything but weak. Unfortunately, you were pigheaded. 

Something within you knew, as well, that no job in the world would ever satisfy you in a way you longed for, ever since your last job had been keeping the world from its deeming ruin. 

At night, when you laid in your too-big bed, with a ragged blanket that grazed the floor, you were overcome with the desire to pack your things and run back to Kokiri Forest. Pleading to Zelda and asking for advice on how to remove, repress all the memories from your old – your other – life. 

Everything you ever wanted to be was a careless fairy-child, until the end of your days, unfaced by the passage of time or problems outside, like the rest of the Kokiri. The rest of your alleged family. Weren’t you supposed to be a part of it? 

Instead, fate wasn’t on your side – an outcast, no matter where you went. Too young to save the world, and in the need to fend for yourself. Too old to keep living jauntily, acting as if nothing had ever happened. As if what you did wasn’t of importance. Something to be casual about. 

Because who even knew that something had happened at all? 

-

You couldn’t have wished for a better job than milk boy of the Lon Lon Farm. 

When the farm sprang into your mind, a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

A handful of people who were genuine, and good-natured, and amiable. 

Talon was immediately enamored with you, ever since you showed up at the shed and guessed the Super Cuccos right with booming enthusiasm (and skill).  
You got along splendidly with Malon as well, just like in early days, and when she introduced you to Epona you were left with nothing but the pure desire to cry for the first time in forever.

Saria’s ocarina had a given place in your pocket, and accompanied by Malon’s singing you played old songs you’d never really forgotten up until sunset, Epona galloping around you. 

On that day you stayed for supper – vegetable stew at a too small table, the smell of dry grass surrounding you, yet still the most familiar, most comfortable place you’ve been to since you left the forest. 

Three visits later and Talon offered you the job. Or, practically, begged you to take it. 

Picking up a wagon of milk from the farm in the mornings, and delivering it to the addressee’s in Hyrule and Kakariko before lunch time.  
It wasn’t an all too demanding job, but then again, what was to you?  
What it did, though, was occupy you enough to distract you from your thoughts and leave you in close contact with a loving group of people that treated you like family from day one.  
The pay was enough to get by, but of course, this wasn’t of great importance to you. 

It was just nice, and frankly good for you – going back to the farm after your shift, along with the empty boxes, to help out on the farmyard. Taking care of the cows, the horses, mucking out the stables and sheds, and sometimes riding out with Malon, Talon or even Ingo (who you were always a bit suspicious of, to be honest, for good reason).

There was enough to do for you, and they were glad to have you around. Simply being in the company of other – genuine, cheerful – people, even with all the work everyone had to get done daily, filled you with comfort and a feeling of homeliness. 

When you were contentedly strolling back to Hyrule Town after a just-so satisfactory dinner, looking up at the cloudless night sky, you knew that the constantly gnawing thoughts at the back of your mind couldn’t do you any harm as long as you didn’t let them. As long as you were surrounded by friends. As long as you could convince yourself that you sure were capable of living this civil life. 

You could clearly make out your favorite constellation, up above Hyrule Castle, and you had to think of Saria and nights where you lay in the blooming summer meadows together, illuminated by the full moon and reading the stars.  
Your smile wasn’t one of happiness, but one of sorrow and nostalgia and bitterness. Since you left the forest you haven’t paid a single visit to Saria and your guilty consciousness was overpowering - just further preventing you from doing so.

You remembered other nights as well – ones where you lay hungry and bloody in-between the ruins of the market place and the Temple of Time, trying to rest for a few precious minutes. But the pain in your limbs was preventing you from slipping into a slumber, which often led you to (unsuccessfully) counting the stars up until the first signs of dawn. You never made it past 500 – blaming your lack of concentration and sleep. Navi countered that you were simply unable to do math as simple as counting.  
It was a welcome distraction - that friendly, early-morning banter between you two, while wandering through devastated landscapes, trying not to look death in the eyes. 

Your gaze wandered to the ground as you passed the gate to Hyrule Town, not daring to look at the stars for a second longer.  
You only looked up again once you were in the safety of your own four walls, locking the door behind you.

The anticipation for the milk-delivering the next morning was big. 

-

The years you spent as Lon Lon’s milk delivery boy in this life were the happiest you ever had. Feelings of guilt were plaguing you at this thought, and you could see Saria’s teary gaze on the day of your departure in front of you. You immediately pushed those thoughts aside, as you did everything else these days. 

In another timeline, Ganondorf was long banned into the Sacred Realm again and Zelda had already sent you back to your childhood. Full of naivity she was, as if she truly believed you could live a peaceful childhood after everything that had happened. 

You saw Zelda more often now, even though she was rather busy in the meantime, as the Queen of Hyrule. The king had died unexpectedly on a stormy night last July, leaving deep wounds throughout the whole kingdom. But no matter what, you couldn’t bring Zelda down. As if anyone would have expected differently. She did an outstanding job, trying to flick everything back together as professionally as possible. 

Either way, the Royal Court asked for milk, and it felt good to stay a few minutes longer to chat freely with Zelda or Impa before you unavoidably had to move on to your next destination. 

Your evenings at the farm were still joyful – a significant part of your life and a necessary distraction.  
Oftentimes, Malon would accompany you home, you would take Epona out for a walk to the lake or, on the weekends, you would find your way to Hyrule’s atmospheric pub. 

You always felt slightly uncomfortable with the way Malon opened up to you, after two mugs of mead, which urged you to distance yourself in a way that felt necessary. 

Malon was, for better or worse, your best friend. However, she and her father were your _family_ , especially now that your one in Kokiri Forest remained a memory tormenting you at night. 

You truly wished you were capable of offering her something in return for everything she had done for you over the years – but you just couldn’t. You couldn’t force yourself. 

You loved her so, so much.

And it broke your heart when she stared at you with hurt and tearful eyes as you pushed her hand from your thigh. 

-

Malon was strong, even if she might not have looked like it. 

You thought it was admirable - how good she was in keeping up a facade when it must have felt as if an arrow hit her right in the heart (and not in a good way) when she looked you in the face and smiled. When she talked to you as if nothing ever happened, in the mornings when you came to pick up the milk. When she gave you a second serving of the potatoes at dinner, without you having to ask and with a soft smile on her face, even though you had noticed how she’d barely touched her own plate. 

She was so strong and you felt so weak, so useless, so ungrateful. 

Because you knew very well that you were part of the reason why she had to be strong in the first place.

-

You rarely stayed for dinner now, even though your excuses of why you had to head home early never fooled anyone. Trips on horseback and shared ways home in the sunset belonged to the past now, and thinking back was painful. 

You felt like a thief. Even if you knew that you actually weren’t. Even if you knew that Malon, no matter what happened – or didn’t happen – between the two of you, would always appreciate your time together and see you as a part of her life, as a friend and as family. You knew that with time, she’d be able to heal and move on. 

You knew all that, yet it was no help in easing your feelings of complete and utter guilt. 

Hyrule Town’s pub was your needed distraction now that you avoided staying at the farm for any minute longer than necessary. It seemed like the only escape from being left alone with your thoughts in the eerie silence of your bedroom.

You went for your evening mug of mead by yourself now, without Malon to help you put a smile on your face. 

You wished Zelda would have never sent you back to your childhood when you sat there at the bar, possibly looking miserable, judging by the pitying looks the bartender shot you every now and then. _The young, green-clad forest boy, staring into space and wallowing in self-pity, probably dumped by his girlfriend from the farm._

Sometimes, on the darkest days, you wished you’d never been able to strike the last, fatal blow to Ganon. You wished you had just failed right at the beginning of your quest, at an unfortunate encounter with Ghoma or a wild Deku.

They would have found you in the depths of the dead Deku Tree and buried you at the brightest, most fruitful part of the woods. It would have rained the day of your funeral, for the first time in years, and Saria would have enclosed her ocarina with you. Even Mido wouldn’t have been able to hide the unwelcome tear running down his cheek.

No one outside would have found out – about the brave little boy who succumbed to the parasite inhabiting the Great Deku Tree in an attempt to save him. 

Zelda would have never received the Kokiri's Emerald, never found out that the prophecy really held some truth to it, she would have believed her thoughts were nothing but childish fantasies, after all. 

No one would have been able to stop Ganondorf. Hyrule would have been engulfed in misery, with a constant feeling of death in the air instead of joy and life. 

But you wouldn’t have had to witness any of that. 

No 7-year long sleep in the Scared Realm. No weight on your shoulder. No fate of a whole kingdom in the hands of a boy who was never allowed to be a child. 

There were people coming to talk to you, sometimes, when they saw you sitting there with empty eyes that had seen too much for such a seemingly short lifetime. 

Yet their intention was rarely to help or cheer you up. 

At times you were grateful for that, seeing how the last thing you wanted was pity. You responded with gazes and signals just as hungry, one moment blurring into the other, and suddenly found yourself in an unfamiliar bed that was too cold, feeling fragile and submissive, yet responsive and starving for any sort of touch. 

You always left as the first rays of sunshine found their way through the curtains, without leaving any trace of you ever having been there, but with a head that felt like a Bomb Flower in its last living moments and a consciousness so guilty, you would have wished it on Ganondorf in his time of power. 

-

When your job as Lon Lon's delivery boy had already long been history and you were - depending on the generous donations from the royal house which had been kindly offered to you all your life but you hadn’t accepted up until your resignation – spending your early Saturday morning grocery shopping (because you had to eat, as your body well-meaningly reminded you) you crossed his way for the first time. 

Not many thoughts were lost on him, too busy ignoring your growling stomach and indigestion which were keeping you from deciding between the fresh, big tomatoes from Kakariko and the precious, cerise ones from the castle’s horticulture. 

A quick peek at the figure – the boy – who was handing over the milk to the bearded market trader, a big smile on his face.  
He was wearing your hat, you realised, with the visible farm emblem embroidered onto its front by Malon. Wonderful, good-natured Malon, who had presented you with it proudly, the words _„For you – as a sign that you’re part of the family“_ making your delivery that day much easier and so much more cheerful.  
The sting that hit you all of a sudden, just like one of Ganons arrows, was ignored, together with the wallowing cries of your stomach praying for attention. 

You made your way back home, through quiet alleyways in the morning dawn, and prepared some stew for yourself – bland and boring, the art of cooking never on your side – and you noticed that there was, overcooked and burning your tongue, no noticeable difference between the tomatoes from the farmer and the castle. 

No thought about the new, friendly delivery boy was torturing you anymore, successfully repressed into the deepest corners of your brain, until the day his sunshine smile stared back at you from the invitation to Malons wedding. 

-

You didn’t go. 

It was unfair, you knew that. It would have been the least you could have done for Malon, after all you’d done to her. After all she’d done for you. After all the pain she had to suffer through because of you. After you just left her and the farm, without real explanation, without return. 

But you couldn’t. Not after all the months of silence. Not when you knew you’d see the farm in front of you , flourishing, not stuck in time like yourself. 

You were happy for her, though. You were glad she was moving on and you were glad you finally had proof for that. 

You tried not to think about Malon and the blond boy, lovingly embracing each other, the cheerful laughter of Talon, Basil and the rest of the kingdom surrounding them. 

You tried not to think about the fact that they weren’t thinking about you, either.

-

Following Impa’s death, which lay like a shadow over Kakariko, Zelda bestowed the wish of you inheriting Impa’s house upon you. 

You disputed, initially, since you didn’t feel entitled to. Impa was a great person, a woman of honor, and in this world, you were a nobody. 

_„The people know you as a close friend of the royal family and as the friendly boy from the Woods. You’re definitely not a nobody, Link. No one would be chasing you with fire if you were to take up on the offer. You were one of Impa’s closest friends, and she knew exactly what you’d done for our kingdom, if that’s what matters to you. She would have loved for you to inherit her place instead of some mindless Kakariko labourer. Trust me on this, please.“_

Zelda was right. Impa had been the last living Sheikah and it was the least you could do to help keep her deeds and honors alive. 

Living in Kakariko was, to put it easily, different. It obviously wasn’t as busy as Castle Town, yet still so much livelier. You could sit quietly and unbothered on the roof of the highest building, watching the sun set behind the town gate. At dawn, the whole village was basked in a warm tone of red and a strange sense of tranquility lay in the air. It felt like the calm before the storm. A storm which would never come, as you knew. 

Life here was uneventful. Boring, plain, unspectacular. Not much different from life in Hyrule Town – which was at a stone’s throw anyways. Life here was just a bit more tranquil, more familiar.

Familiar, and yet you felt left out. You were scared of becoming dilapidated, like Bongo Bongo, banished into the depths of a well to never bring harm upon the village again. You knew the thought was unrealistic, nonsensical. 

However, you also knew that the people talked. Of course, it’s common in small villages, in familiar surroundings, and it’s not like there was anything better or more interesting to do, really, when sitting together in the evenings over some mead. You didn’t blame them for talking. 

Mostly because you only had yourself to blame for getting them to gossip in the first place. You barely showed your face anymore, you knew that.  
You could be seen taking care of things you felt obliged to do – buying food at the market, visiting Impa’s grave and every now and then helping elderly women repair their gutters, when there was no one else around to do it for them. You wondered sometimes, if they were married, or divorced, or if their husbands have died, or if they’ve spent their lives alone all along. You wondered if they were like you, deeply uncontent, and at some point they just gave up, moving to a village where they could slowly die in peace. 

These women were always incredibly kind towards you, and they treated you with so much understanding, it took you by surprise every time. Maybe no one else paid attention to them anymore, you thought, or maybe they’ve just lived long enough to be wise enough to look through you without you having to tell them anything. In any case, you were truly grateful, and made sure to convey it to them in any way possible without you having to open your mouth. 

Of course, these women were also an exception to the general rule. 

_“This man is bringing disaster upon us.“_

_“He has no place in Impa’s house.“_

_“He’s going to end up like old Bongo Bongo, is what he is!”_

Defamatory statements were no rarity. The people actually knew who you were, should have known of your close relationship with the royal house, but gossip is gossip, and someone who could deal with Bongo Bongo himself could cope with some rabble-rousing comments. 

Apart from running your usual errands, you sometimes fancied going for late-evening walks through the fields of Hyrule, clad in your most concealing cloak, hood pulled over your too-long hair, in the mood to think about everything and nothing - preferably nothing, though, if you were going to be honest – while visiting places you knew from earlier days. In these moments, you felt truly alone in this world that didn’t seem to mean you any well. 

You sat in front of the entrance to the Zora Kingdom, the water shining bloodred in the sunset, a cucco parading around you, cackling almost tauntingly, you thought.  
You were thinking about the frog choir that might have still been living somewhere around here, about how you could have easily gotten up to search for it. You were thinking about the fairy ocarina in your satchel, and about how much Saria would have loved a frog choir.  
You were thinking about the Kokiri. About the forest in which time seemed to stand still, the place in which everything always seemed to have remained completely unaffected by the world and its true cruelties. 

You were filled with a sudden desire to return and pretend nothing ever happened, but the guilt prevented you from doing so, still, after all this time.  
The thought of being older and bigger, of slowly decaying, in contrast to your family that was destined to stay the same until the end of time, the word “decay” probably unknown to them, didn’t make it any easier. 

The moon was shimmering in the creek under the waterfall by the time you were finally able to collect yourself again, the cucco now nowhere to be seen. You could hear an owl howling in the distance. 

Without further ado you made your way home, as quiet and unnoticed as you'd come, without so much as looking back on the majestic waterfall covering the entrance to the even more majestic Zora Kingdom. You always liked the Zora, but now, they didn’t even know you. Not Ruto, not the King, yet still – you felt comfortable in their vicinity, not as if you could come very close, but just knowing they were right behind that magically sealed door was more than enough for you. You just felt, somehow, that the Zora wouldn’t treat you differently, wouldn’t even _care_ all that much, if they knew what you’d done for Hyrule - for them. 

You’ve always admired the Zora – the crystal clear water, the mysterious kingdom, the enticing way they talked and carried themselves. You wish you could be a Zora, in your next life, maybe. Secluded yet approachable, kind and cordial yet private and enigmatic, someone of authority, almost wise, having no need to feign who they are. 

-

Days went by, seasons passed, years ticked away. 

You were no friend of routine, had never been, yet everything was always the same. Unspectacular, unexciting, boring. 

Real joy was a rarity, but so was sadness. Indifference prevailed most of the time, though you dared question if that was necessarily a good thing.

By now you tried helping out in Kakariko where you could. You still felt as if you were in its debt – in Impa’s debt. Also, there wasn’t really anything else to do, and any opportunity that didn’t leave you alone with your thoughts was more than welcome in your book. 

You became part of the villages routine and the people started to accept you more and more, to invite you over for dinner after long afternoons at construction zones into their cozy, warm four walls. 

How they could be so happy was a constant mystery to you, something you thought about whenever you accepted an invitation, sitting amongst a generous family at a too-small table, poking around in your dull bowl of porridge. 

Every day, every week, every month here was the same. There were no surprises, ever, and sometimes you missed those days, where you had to be on edge day in day out, expecting death to be waiting for you around every corner.  
If they knew that they didn’t even know the world? If they knew that they were lying to themselves when they acted as if they lived a fulfilled life? Or were they actually happy and content, having no problems missing out on what was behind the entrance to the village, being happier living in safety and boring routine? 

You figured it was probably the latter, and you were simply bitter and old. The children were always laughing and excited about your visits, and it almost hurt – but only ever almost – when you watched like a leper how their parents kissed them on their foreheads, sending them off to bed and looking after them with affectionate smiles as they ascended the stairs to their beds. 

Usually, their gaze wandered to you next, and you could feel the pity gushing out of their every pore. You wanted to throw up. 

But you were grateful. Because you knew you were only lying to yourself, when you said you were doing good, you weren’t lonely, you didn’t miss the company. 

You had to think about Malon – and Basil and Talon, and how, back in the day, you used to have dinner together every night, you were laughing, grabbing another plate, being a part of their family. You said your thanks to the family you were eating with now, the one whose name you’ve already forgotten, barely able to finish your small portion of bland porridge, and made a beeline home. 

An uneasy sleep overcame you, and you dreamed of laughing faces, shining stars and a colorful carnival. 

-

You swore to yourself that you’d never ever complain about having gotten a second chance. Other people would have _died_ for a second chance. You didn’t take it for granted. You really didn’t. 

But still - no one had even asked you. If you wanted to live through this again – this life, if you could even still call it that. If you wanted to live with all this anguish accompanying you, with the thoughts of your never coming death. Thoughts of dungeons and graves, the stench of rotting flesh, and the ReDeads – the ones inhabiting the market place, the ones you still saw sitting there right in front of the blacksmith shop every time you came by – that it came from. Thoughts of death – your death, the death of loved ones. Misery in the air, sickness. Red equals blood- that one specific type of red, too dark to even be called that, to deserve the name of such a wondrous color - and the slightly overripe, dark red cherries that were a monthly luxury at the Hyrule Market were no exception to that rule. Their wine red color didn’t remind you of your own blood, which's color and smell you knew like your own eyelids – your blood that was a weird shade of vermeil, in contrast to the cherries, in contrast to the blood of naive village children that considered themselves too brave. 

No one had warned you of what you’d have to live with. No one had warned you that it would eat you up from the inside, the saving of the world. Of course, no one suspected that it would destroy you. They thought they were doing you a favor, something nice. Zelda had only wanted the best for you. 

It wasn’t your intention, you swore, when you threw away the letters from the royal house without so much as giving them a cursory glance. Invitations of all kinds had long been disregarded, Zeldas face blurred in your memory. 

Even when the royal officials came knocking on your door on behalf of the castle, you didn’t show any signs of acknowledgment in the hopes of them getting the message and leaving. You didn’t want to see them. Nowadays, everything reminded you of old times, of times that were better, of times that were worse. You didn’t want to be reminded. You were remembering enough. It was enough. 

You shot a death stare at the closed front door from your place in the armchair in front of the fireplace, useless, because they couldn’t see you, but still effective, since the knocking abruptly stopped. Your eyes trailed after the letter falling from the pidgeon hole to the floor in what seemed to be slow motion. 

You recognised it immediately – the white envelope, the royal sigil, the black border. 

_How could she_ , you thought.

_How could she, so selfishly, before me._

-

You didn’t attend the funeral. You couldn’t, you didn’t feel capable, didn’t even toy with the idea.  
Guilt overcame you nonetheless and – though you didn’t even deem that possible – you hated yourself more than ever before. 

You hated _the world_ more than ever before. 

The wish to never have defeated Ganon wandered through your thoughts yet again, but you knew, of course, that you didn’t _actually_ wish that, did you? 

It was 5 in the evening, the middle of December, and pitch-black outside. A lone candle sat atop your desk, and you watched the wax drip onto the wooden table in regular gaps. 

You were overcome with the sudden need to go outside, to run into the Unkown and never come back. 

You waved it aside, reached for the candlestick and blew out the flame. 

It was 5 in the evening, the middle of December, and pitch-black – both outside and inside. A lonely man lay in his hard, just-right-sized wooden bed and stared at the wall.  
No one in particular watched as the tears dropped onto the stone floor in regular gaps, barely audible. 

-

You loved the water, and the river that sprung up in the Zora Kingdom and emptied into the Hylia Lake. You loved the sound of the rush, the smell and the creatures in an inexplicable manner. You felt secure in its vicinity. 

You were no Zora, but a Hylian, a Kokiri, a mix of both. Your home were the woods, the green, the sounds of wind rustling through leaves and the laughs of ever-young people. 

Or, at least, that should have been your home. _The place you grew up in should be your home_ , or so they said. 

But you’d always been the boy without a fairy, and the laughing echoing all around you was too often aimed at you. You had gotten older, more experienced, wanted to go out and see the world, even as all your comrades stayed young and innocent, happy in their little place. 

You got a fairy, one day, completely to your own surprise. You had gotten so much more than that, the fate of a whole world in your hands, from one day to the other, without opportunity for protest. 

As quickly as your fairy had come, as quickly as she became your dear companion, your friend, as quickly she vanished again. 

And so did you. 

Everything you wanted was to belong. 

You just wanted a fairy. 

_„At all costs“_ , you thought one sunny – always sunny - afternoon, lying next to Saria in the grass. But now you know that that was a lie. 

-

You loved the water, but it wasn’t your home. 

The place you grew up in was your home, they said.

Then what was the place you died in? 

-

It was cold, so awfully cold, and not at all how you remembered it, back then when you were able to carelessly and comfortably walk and breathe underwater to scare some puny bad guys out of holy temples. 

You wanted to scream and protest, fight against it, fight your way back to the surface, completely by instinct, but the heavy metal ball you’ve stolen from your too-friendly neighbour's shed and chained to your ankle prevented you from following those instincts. 

You still tried – screaming, instinctively, since you were at a point far from remorse – but as so often in your life, there were no sounds coming out of you. 

But it was quicker like this, thanks to your ridiculous, pitiful „screams“.

You felt more peaceful immediately, calmer, as if you were floating, despite the ball keeping you on the ground of the lake. The surface was black, the dark night going on outside, not looking inviting anymore at all. 

You recognized the vague shadow next to you as Saria's ocarina that must have fallen out of your pockets as you were sinking.

You were so sorry, for everything, but you wouldn’t have to be for much longer. 

\----

**EPILOGUE**

A forest – that much you managed to make out. Neither Kokiri Forest nor the Lost Woods, of that you were sure, too. 

It smelled weird, of rotten, wet wood. Worse than you normally encountered on walks through forests, more penetrating, stinging both your eyes and nose. 

Your body felt heavy, so heavy, and you couldn’t move your limbs. 

There were no sounds, no wind, no breeze, Nothing. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, until at some point you believed to hear a dull laugh, one that was enveloping you from head to toe. 

You could hear trotting. _A horse?_ It was approaching you at a smart pace. 

It should run you over. Put an end to everything, once and for all. _Please._ Your body still felt so heavy.

But the trotting vanished, as unexpectedly as it had appeared. 

Absolute silence returned, and after a while, you found some power within you to slowly sit up.

A hesitant glance down and you wanted to scream, scream and never, ever stop again, until the end of time. 

You were wearing a green tunic, just like some thousand lifetimes ago, when you were young and chosen.

Another glance down and you knew – you _were_ young. A child. _Again._

There was a sword on your back. And a shield. You couldn’t explain where they came from, what their purpose was. 

You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. 

You were searching your pockets. For what, you weren’t sure. 

A hard object, a smooth surface, marble as cold as a lake in the middle of winter. 

Everything within you came to haltering stop. You didn’t have to see it to know what it was. 

Zelda’s ocarina. The Ocarina of Time, as she had always called it, but which was never really of importance to you. 

What kind of sick dream was this? You just wanted it to end, please, please, please. 

All you wanted was to decay in a disgusting, abandoned grave. 

You just wanted to find peace, somehow. Nothingness, preferably. 

It was time. 

But what even was time anymore? You didn’t know, you didn’t know anything, not where you were, or who you were, or how it – if it – would ever end, what you would have to do for it to end. 

Tears. You almost didn’t notice them until they were nearly drowning you.

Impossible, you knew, so you continued sobbing, soundlessly, lying on the ground of this ugly forest, alone. 

There were no sounds, and you were going crazy.  
Hopeless – that’s how you felt. Completely and utterly hopeless. Trapped, cursed, _hopeless_. 

You fumbled for the ocarina and smashed it, without thinking, but with all the force you had left in you, on the dirty ground in front of you. 

You could blurrily make out the broken fragments, the blood flowing down your hands. 

Hopeless. Trapped. Cursed.

You knew this place. You’ve been here before. Had saved this world, over and over. Could practically still see the mocking grimace of that ugly mask right in front of your eyes. 

You knew of the importance the Ocarina of Time played for this place. 

A quiet laugh broke the silence now. _Your laugh._

You managed to get on your feet, to walk into the direction your gut was guiding you to, through sceneries that would’ve been feast for nightmares, but left you cold, until you found yourself standing in front of a gigantic wooden gate.

You knew what was lying behind. 

What you didn’t know, this time around, was what would happen once you stepped through it. 

You were grabbing for the handle.

A muffled voice behind you, weaker and more desperate than you remembered ever hearing it.  
_„You shouldn’t have done that.“_

You decided to ignore it and took a step outside. You had to smile.

Three days. One last carnival. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> link deserved better
> 
> also don't think too much about how the ending doesn't make sense please i know 
> 
> feedback is still greatly appreciated, though!


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